I'm fine, I say
My fingers crossed

No, really, I'll be
Okay
Truth is for weaklings, right?

Oh that scratch? I'm
Klutzy is all
A little lie is all
Y**eah, okay, maybe I'm not fine

to the humans with the glassy eyes,
i know they've been hurt before
(your eyes,
thrown against the wall,
like a jar filled with rotten marbles)
cauliflower-clouded mind
red-scented sleep
& i pray to God
those pills dissolve in your
sanitized hands.
don't cry when it's over; cry now
i can see milky white
stars in your eyes
and soft pink
bubble gum-flavored clouds
and lazy green rivers
and violent violet nights
and a deep howl in you
when you think you can't go on.
and you burn yourself
with empty looks
and break yourself
by lying down
and **** yourself
by forgetting that the lightning storm
ever came.
flying doesn't always set people free.
remember that.

i saw a girl who looked lifeless
painted behind bars,
i've never met the artist,
but i wonder how they knew to paint me

Of all the places
I have been
This is the strangest
That I've seen

It is called
The mixed up zoo
where the animals
Just will not do
Exactly what they're supposed to do
That's why it's called the mixed up zoo

Imagine lions in a tree
Not where they're supposed to be
A giraffe who is afraid of heigts
And bats who will not fly at night

I saw a goat who did not bleat
And then I saw a wool less sheep
A zebra who was blue and green
The strangest place I've ever been

I saw a duck who did not quack
I even met a talking yak
A turkey who could really fly
A hyena who would  only cry

Geese that croaked like giant frogs
And chickens who would bark like dogs
Elephants with ears so small
You would think they couldn't hear at all

I saw a horse who would not run
In all the day was really fun
Monkeys who could really sing
A snake who bounced just like a spring

It really was a crazy place
I laughed so much I hurt my face
If there is one thing you must do
Come and see the mixed up zoo

And I want to tell her that I understand
what it feels like to be fake, insignificant,
and a shadow on the sidewalk of society.

And I want to tell her that I also borrow
the experiences of others --
that I, too, learn feelings
by stopping and staring at personal wreckage,
like a tourist of emotions,
like an inevitable wish of a human being.

There’s broken glass in my foot
clear symmetrical triangles
dangling off my foot
like a dazzling chandelier.
But pain.
like a dragons claw,
like a witches fingernail
cut deep
and the oozing, dripping,
thick scarlet liquid
seeping over the bathroom tiles,
reflects my dazed face.
Where am I?
My pale, white, finger
extends and dips into the
red
and now the lines on my hands are all
red
and my eyes blur with the color
red.
I walk down stairs.
Isn't everything romanticized?
Red flowers,
      red skin,
              red lips,
                            red breath.
But the eyes,
the eyes are red
and I suppose that is
what really impales me.

lying on my mattress
or floor
staring into the
pure
white ceiling.
Thinking, breathing, wanting to scream.
Everything's perfect.
except for the white ceiling, of course